The Sun Laughs Poem by Fatima Nusairat

The sun laughs
I remember while I am touching
mirrors, my name.

My name which from five characters
urging me now, to picking up
what scattering from pieces memories
in empty warcraft 'cellophane' as
It should be to an old woman to do

The sun laughs
while my name, dictating
the words and steps,
the looks, the moment that comes and go,
in a room, in a house, behind a walls,
dictating such these words and sobbing

While remembering my name
as a sleeps bird in parks,
above the stairs on the mastabas,
on the doors on the door handles,
in the hallway in the cellars,
in circles in curves,
under larache in the attic,
in the narrow lanes in the alleys,
in 'Abu Teir's shop', in larache watermelon,
in chicken serfs,
in the old houses corridors,
in wheat fields over the almond trees
between olive branches and trunks figs

The sun laughs
I touch my name,
one character by one,
to be sure that I am not dead.